


Mirrored Cell

by t-hy-lla (rivenjolras)



Series: Mirrored Cell 'Verse [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe, Pining, Space Fascism, Unrequited, don't mind me i'm just hanging out in eternal hell, episode fic, mild dubcon, mindmeld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivenjolras/pseuds/t-hy-lla
Summary: Leonard gets caught by Mirror Spock. Mirror Spock senses Leonard's desire for his counterpart. Take a wild guess what happens, you guys.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonFae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonFae/gifts).



Oh fuck me. In any universe, I can’t watch someone die when I can do something about it. Especially not him. In the past, I’ve joked about all sorts of awful shit happening to him, things I wished would happen to him... but I never meant it. My Spock knows that. Doesn’t he? My mind supplies vivid memories of our last argument, particularly nasty in nature. Spock never made eye contact- never tore his gaze away from a fixed point on some damnable screen. It drove me crazy, incensed me to claw and claw, just to get him to fucking acknowledge me. Spock has never been avoidant in the realm of eye contact- in fact, the intensity of his gaze puts off people of a weaker constitution than I. I should have known. I would have known, if it were anyone else. Fat load my education in interpersonal psychology theory does me when he’s concerned.

 

I feel like I’m shaking, although I know I have more than enough experience as a Doctor that I’m confident my hands are not. Everything in me is devoted to the job, and I’m hyper-focused on him. My vision is tunneling as I hypo him, and then when I turn to look at his vitals. They start to stabilize relatively quickly- I calculate that for his body to reach homeostasis, it would take about half an hour. I have much less time than that. I don’t know for sure that Spock won’t be taken care of- permanently- by someone else if I leave while he is in this vulnerable state. I realize with a jolt- if. Am I prepared for the consequences of saving him? _Yes_ , the answer comes unbidden, forcefully. 

 

A hand closes around my wrist, startling me. My medical mind documents the fracture and pain. But all other parts of my brain are frozen, focused only on his eyes boring into me. I feel an electrical buzz through the contact point of his fingers on me. I gasp. My Spock never felt this intense. I have received tiny, pleasant tingles whenever our skin connects, via a brush of bare skin to skin. This is a different animal entirely. It feels almost magnified, even through the cloth of my uniform. I look down for a second, then snap back up reflexively. The spike of adrenaline tells me- danger, warning. Fight. _Flee_. I don’t.

 

“Why did the Captain let me live?” This Spock says, quickly. He yanks on my arm, then gets up off the bed. Medical mind again, amending its previous hypothesis- Vulcan physiology is markedly more resilient. Although, if Spock were completely up to par, he could have broken my wrist without effort, or without thought, even. As he advances, I step back, an instinctive reaction, until my back is against something solid. He’s close enough to be breathing my air, if I were breathing properly. He extends his hand towards my face, obviously determined to pry the answer from me. Why aren’t I like Jim- he would have answered right away, flashed that charming smile. He would know what to do. Though Vulcans have an uncanny ability to sense when someone isn’t being truthful. Damn green-blooded bastards.

 

“Our minds are merging, Doctor. Our minds are one.” His voice is rough, possibly from injury. Later I might note the linguistic differences in the ritual words of mind-melding between this Spock and mine. If I live through this. “I feel what you feel.” He continues, “I know what you know.” _Damn_.

 

His fingertips feel like a drill. The pain is acute in a way I am unable to stomach or power through. It’s more than physical, it’s worse than the fracture. I don’t hear his voice, but a tug. _Let me in. Let me in, and it won’t hurt_. I know this, somehow, but I also know that as soon as I do, I am as good as dead. Fuck, I’m already dead. The crew has no choice but to leave me to my fate. At least this buys them more time.

 

My body is unbearably hot, and tears come to the corners of my eyes under the strain. Everything is spinning. Then suddenly, I am not in my body at all. The dam breaks. I feel Spock’s satisfaction with varying shades of smugness and ruthlessness. Spock starts to unravel me. I try to redirect, think of something distracting. Sweet tea on porches. Fidgeting as a child during a long church sermon. My mother’s shrill voice scolding me. The images flicker and change. Spock shatters it all.

 

He pulls on my most recent memory and all the emotions attached. My fear and nausea as soon as we arrived in this universe. I can feel him like some kind of computer, playing everything up to now on fast forward, absorbing it all. Seeing it all through my colored lens of human feeling. I can feel him pause when he sees me over him just a minute ago. Layer one, fear. Under that, anxiety, despair, and resolve to heal, comfort. I can sense his intrigue. I don’t hear his thoughts, but I can feel the gears turning. He yanks on more strings. Takes in our last argument. Sees my shame. Sees my desperate need to force Spock- my Spock- to look at me, just once. A pause. Then, he realizes something. 

 

‘ _You desire my counterpart._ ’ He directs this to me. ‘ _I can feel it. Do not deny it._ ’ His inner voice is clear and loud.

 

I feel like I am drowning under his scrutiny. Embarrassment clouds my mind, like sticky, black tar. Spock takes it in. He tilts his head in curiousity- though I do not see it. I am still unresponsive, but it appears he doesn’t require my input.

 

Something sweet leaks into my perception. It’s peach and warm, and feels like a caress. My pain eases to nothing. Spock is all around me, in me. I know now, intimately, the meaning of oneness Vulcans refer to when they meld.

 

‘ _You wanted him to look at you. Now, my eyes are on you._ ’ Memories are pulled and played on a reel in front of me. I rapidly feel the bite of some of my Spock’s more close-to-home insults. Misplaced anger, when Spock speaks only to Jim, and spares not a thought or glance towards me. Longing, the times I drank after missions where I came close to losing him- to a malicious entity, to a woman, or to a genderless, sexless, formless alien that captured his attention more than I ever could. It stops, and the sting is gone; dimly, I can feel his other hand against my cheek. It’s surprisingly comfortable, soft. Beautiful. I sigh internally. ‘ _I will not look away, Doctor._ ’ I hear his voice all around me. I know, instantly, that this is true.

 

He conjures something new. It’s a fantasy. Him, looking at the alternate version of me. His raw feelings- I recognize the want. The pining. In this fantasy, he shuts the door to my office, and sweeps my counterpart into his arms. He kisses my mirror image, and it is gentle. So unlike the man I’ve seen before me. I gasp, again, as the fantasy he’s playing for me ceases. I feel empty. Then, he speaks again. ‘ _I cannot have this here. He is so similar to you- but he will never let me near as he is. He cannot afford to, in this universe._ ’ Pity grows in the corner of my mind, grey-blue and rough as slate.

 

I can feel him start to withdraw from my mind, and instinctively, I reach towards him. Without his presence, the physical awareness and pain is back. He allows me to feel his pleasure at this action, and mild surprise. Spock doesn’t speak, but I know he isn’t leaving entirely.

 

I come back to myself, dazed, and to my embarrassment, aroused. Spock is on the shallowest edge inside my mind, and also in front of me. He opens his mouth and speaks on the physical plane. “Doctor.” His hand drifts from my psi points without separating from my feverish skin. Fingertips graze the sides of my face, then lower. His thumb runs across my lips, lingering there. Then, both his hands cradle the back of my neck. He takes a precise step forward, joining the rest of his body with mine. “Allow me to have you. I am more than capable of keeping you safe. He will never look upon you as I have. You and I know this.” His eyes drop down to my mouth. “Allow me to show you what you would be missing.”

 

I am completely captivated as his lips meet mine. They are firm, warm. Mutual desire blankets my mind, stifling everything else. Spock’s thigh wedges between my legs, and he brushes against my hardened sex, slow and deliberate. My legs stop holding my weight, and I grip him to keep from falling. His Vulcan strength ensures that I will not. He rocks against me, sending sparks of pleasure all throughout my body. My breaths come out ragged, sounding impossibly loud to my own ears. I know, somewhere, there’s a reason this shouldn’t be happening- _what is it? How did I get here?_

 

Spock narrows his eyes, and pulls on my hair. It sends a pleasurable-painful-beautiful jolt in me. I gasp. My thoughts disperse. He leans in and kisses my neck, soft at first. I can feel him rock-hard against my stomach, and I feel so wanted, drunk on it. Why hadn’t Spock done this before? Why didn’t he say anything? We could have had this all along, and Jim would-- My mind halts. _Jim_. The Enterprise. The world where everything makes sense- it’s waiting there for me.

 

Spock growls and bites into me, hard. I try to shove him off, swearing and feeling the radiant hot pain of split skin. His body is denser and stronger than a human’s. I push as hard as I can but he does not budge. Spock sucks at the broken skin, laving his tongue against it. I start to feel frustrated tears well up at the corners of my eyes. Jim, my best friend. Spock, the love of my life. My daughter. Any longer and I would never see them again. I would endure every look of disdain on his face, if I could see my Spock- the one who would never harm a soul.

 

“Spock…” I gasp hoarsely, and it sounds pathetic, like mourning. I shake, the fight gone from me. I am resigned- if this Spock wants me here, there is nothing I can do to leave. I slump against him. Spock is still sucking and biting at my neck. It would probably look very nasty afterwards. Not that I will care much, I’m sure much worse will happen to me in this universe. I stare out at the familiar-yet-not medbay, unfocused.

 

Suddenly, Spock stops sucking on my skin, letting it out of his mouth with a quiet pop. He stares at it, as if inspecting it. Then, he releases the back of my neck, and bodily hauls me up to my two feet so I’m standing straight.

 

“Doctor.” He says, looking as if he hadn’t just assaulted my neck. “Do not use the regenerator on your skin when you return. I want my counterpart to know exactly what happened here.” His face is impassive, but he could not sound more smug if he had tried. I nod dumbly, not used to the idea of there being any hope.

 

“Now, come. You have three minutes. I suggest you move.” He pulls on my arm hard enough to bruise, and I follow him there. 

 

I hear and see the exchange after the walk to the teleporter, but the only thing I am capable of doing is stepping onto the pad when directed. The mark on my neck throbs and it is still bleeding sluggishly. I don’t want to see a mirror.

 

As we beam away, Spock locks eyes with me. He smirks in that subtle way of his, just the way my Spock would.

 

It doesn’t matter to me that he decided to let me free- he has ruined me just the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Super big thanks to my partner in crime and Bones irl. It's thanks to her I feel like writing again.


End file.
